


I Am Lost This Time

by eyessharpweaponshot



Series: Bellarke Bingo [4]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, The 100 (TV) Season 7 Speculation, void!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24742162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyessharpweaponshot/pseuds/eyessharpweaponshot
Summary: Just as she’s done assessing him, Clarke realises she hasn’t taken a breath in ages. She gasps air into her lungs as tears prick her eyes because she can barely believe what she’s seeing. The man she loves is aiming a gun at her, no recognition in his expression. He scans her, the gun in his hand held too tightly. Familiar brown eyes glare at her, except they’re not that familiar at all. They belong to a stranger because there’s no depth behind them, no softness.Clarke can hardly form a comprehendible thought in her head so the only thing she manages to get out is his name, sounding shot and desperate in her throat.“Bellamy?”The void!Bellamy storyline that we all deserved in that final season.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Bellarke Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490204
Comments: 87
Kudos: 143
Collections: Bellarke Bingo





	1. Stranger Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shaeheda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaeheda/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Fic title:_ Lost - Dermot Kennedy.
> 
> After seeing [this](https://twitter.com/mrsmorleyx/status/1269725169238585349?s=20) amazing edit, I couldn't not write this.

“Three days.” Clarke huffs out a breath through her nose and purses her lips together, disgusted with herself. “Three days and I’m only learning he’s missing now.”

Her arms are folded tight across herself and her jacket is suddenly too constricting, causing her to overheat in the midday suns. Raven and Murphy are watching her closely from their position by the porch banister.

“We couldn’t have known,” Raven mumbles.

“ _I_ should have known.” Clarke snaps her eyes to Raven. “I should have known.”

Fuck. How did she get three days without realising something was wrong? Clarke knew something felt off but she had been so busy with Sanctum politics that she hadn’t time to ponder about it.

“You kind of hand your hands full, what with Russell’s execution and the reactor.” Murphy leans back against the wooden beam.

“It’s no excuse,” Clarke mutters, the porch creaking underneath her as she paces it.

Where the hell is he?

It takes everything inside her not to go storming into Sanctum woods. Indra warned her not to move until their search party got back but damn it, Clarke isn’t used to just standing around doing nothing when it comes to Bellamy.

“Clarke.”

Raven’s voice makes Clarke’s head pull up, drawing her eyes to what they’re all looking at. Indra is back with the search party, walking towards the farmhouse with her head down. They’re close enough for Clarke to know that Bellamy isn’t with them. She can’t see his broad frame, the slump of his shoulders, the dark mess of curls on his head - the absence of him makes her heart ache.

“Indra.” Clarke runs up to meet her. “No sign of him?”

“No sign of any of them,” Indra says, continuing to walk towards the farmhouse.

Clarke falls into line with her, swallowing hard to stop the bile rising in her throat. “You looked everywhere?”

“Yes,” Indra confirms. “Gabriel’s camp was normal, just empty.”

“No signs of a struggle? Bullet shells, nothing?”

Indra stops, turning to face Clarke as members of Wonkru pass them out. Her eyes are hard, her face serious and stoic as always. After leading armies for years, commanding soldiers and being a seasoned one herself, it’s obvious that she doesn’t appreciate Clarke’s questioning.

“By all means, feel free to check out the place yourself.” Indra gestures back towards the woods. “But I’m telling you, there’s nothing there.”

Clarke drops her head. It’s not that she’s doubting Indra but damn it, by the time Clarke found out they were missing, an assembled search party was already halfway to Gabriel’s camp. She wanted to be there, to see for herself. She believes Indra, she really does - Clarke just can’t stand idle and do nothing while Bellamy is in trouble.

Indra seems to know this. She has seen them together on Earth, knows how they fight for one another. Clarke won’t give up on him, no more than he’d give up on her. He did everything to get her back after Josephine took her over and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t find him now. It’s something everyone can understand, including Indra. She sighs out a long breath but when she speaks, her tone is kinder than before.

“Look, take Raven and head out. You should make it by nightfall if you take the bikes.”

* * *

The breeze flies through Clarke’s hair on the way to Gabriel’s camp, the noise of the motorbikes in her ears. There’s a chill in the air at this time of night but Clarke welcomes it. She feels like she’s burning from the inside out. There’s a hot grip on her heart, squeezing and suffocating her every time she thinks of Bellamy’s face.

How long has he been missing? Who has taken him? Have they had three whole days on Clarke before she even knew that he wasn’t coming home?

Gabriel’s camp looks normal from the outside when they pull up, Raven’s bike skidding to a halt behind her. Clarke squints through the darkness, making out the outline of his large tent in the middle.

“Looks deserted,” Raven comments, taking off her helmet.

Clarke chews her lip, not being so sure. She knows Indra and the others were here a while ago but if Clarke has learned anything over the years, it's to never be too careful. She pulls out her gun as she dismounts her bike, nodding at Raven to do the same.

“Eyes sharp, weapons hot,” she instructs without thinking, realising once it’s said that she’s quoting Bellamy. Another sting to her heart.

They scan the perimeter and check the tent, all of which are clear of danger. They’re alone here. Clarke isn’t sure whether she’s relieved or disappointed.

“Maybe they never even made it here,” Raven says, lighting a few lanterns inside the tent to illuminate their space.

It’s a possibility - maybe they’re looking in all the wrong places. But Clarke doesn’t think so. She feels Bellamy here, it’s something she can’t explain. Some inner connection to him. He was here. She’s sure of it.

Gripping the handle of her gun harder, she lets her eyes rake over the place. Multiple sheets of paper with weird signs on them are sprawled over Gabriel’s workstation. There’s some radio equipment down the back and a faint hum of static fills the tent. It sets Clarke’s teeth on edge.

“There’s nothing here,” Raven says eventually, flicking through some of Gabriel’s pages.

Clarke runs her hand over the chair she was once passed out on, back when they were trying to kill Josephine.

“ _Get up and fight_.”

Bellamy’s voice rings through her, as loud as it did when he was trying to keep her alive. She takes a shaky breath, a weakness spreading into her limbs.

“ _I need you. Madi needs you_.”

She needs him, too - fuck. She won’t lose him. The raw wound in her chest rips open that little bit more. Clarke wonders how many more times life is going to hurt her. She thought losing her mother was the final straw but it seems the universe has other plans to keep her sore.

“They can’t have just vanished into thin air,” Raven mumbles, her fingers tracing over Gabriel’s marks on the yellow paper.

Clarke’s head pops up, eyes stilling. Dots connect in her mind but the realisation fills her with dread. It’s plausible, she just doesn’t want it to be true. “What if they did?”

Raven looks at her like she might be going mad. She steps towards Clarke, favouring her good leg. “What do you mean?”

Clarke looks at the spiral drawings hanging up around the tent. “The anomaly.”

“You think they went into it?” Raven asks, sounding skeptical. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke admits. “But it’s the only explanation as to why we can’t find a trace of any of them.”

“Why would they just walk right into something like that?”

She’s right. Bellamy would never just leave without telling Clarke. Echo and Octavia are too clever to just disappear inside something so ominous for no reason. Gabriel has studied the anomaly for decades and he’s no closer to figuring out what it is. What would encourage him to go through it now, after all this time?

“Gabriel said Octavia went in after Diyoza.” Clarke thinks back. “Maybe something happened, one of them got pulled through and the others followed?”

It’s the only thing that could make sense about it. Every one of them, including Clarke, have a tendency to be a hero, or an idiot - she’s not sure which. But they would go into anything to save each other.

“I don’t know.” Clarke throws up her hands, confused and overwhelmed. “But I think it’s our closest lead, even without a solid reason behind their entry.”

Raven nods in agreement, folding her arms. “Did Gabriel say what he thinks it is?”

Clarke shakes her head. “All he said was that when Octavia went in, she came out looking different a few seconds later. Her arm was healed and her hair was a little longer.”

Clarke can see the cogs turning in Raven’s brilliant mind. “It has to lead somewhere.”

She’s right. This is all too much, they’re at a complete loss. Neither of them understand the anomaly but all Clarke knows is that it’s the only thing they have to go on. Even if she has to walk into the unknown to find Bellamy, she will. Clarke flexes her fingers, tries to shake off the panic and use her head. But hell, it’s hard to do that when her heart is missing. She’s unbalanced without him, out of control. She proved that when she let Russell get to her back in the palace.

Raven flicks through Gabriel’s pages again, reading all the symbols like she’ll somehow understand them if she looks hard enough. “The possibilities are endless,” Raven rambles. “Time travel, alternate universes - things science never got the opportunity to discover back on Earth.”

“We don’t need to know what it is to go into it,” Clarke decides. “Wherever it takes us, let’s just go and-”

“Wait,” Raven mumbles, more to herself than Clarke. She looks up, an almost smile on her face along with newfound knowledge. “What if it’s a wormhole?”

“What?”

“Different planets,” Raven mumbles, suddenly shuffling through Gabriel’s papers. When she finds the one she’s looking for, she holds it up and shows Clarke. “This is planet Alpha, right?”

Clarke squints, trying to understand. She glances across the page, observing all the circular drawings of planets that Gabriel has sketched. “Right.”

“Eligius III dropped mission teams onto each one.” Raven smiles, that glint in her eye present as always when she discovers something cool. “That means there’s at least four other planets after this one. What if the anomaly is some gateway between all of the planets?”

“So you’re saying Bellamy could be on a different planet?” Clarke’s heart leaps in her chest. Wouldn’t be the first time they weren’t on the same one.

“It’s a possibility,” Raven says, putting the pages back down. “It might be why Octavia looked different coming back out. Different planets have different time dilations. Like the movie _Interstellar_.”

“ _Interstellar_?”

“An old Earth movie. I watched it on the Ark once,” Raven says. “The point is, we don’t know how fast or slow time goes on those other planets, meaning-”

“Meaning if your theory is right,” Clarke finishes for her. “It could mean that Bellamy has been missing way longer than three days.”

The thought is terrifying. Any of the theories thrown out here are long shots but damn, what if this one is true? How long has Bellamy really been away from her? Not to mention the others who are also missing. Of course Clarke is worried for their safety too, but fuck, she isn’t in love with them. It hits differently when it’s Bellamy on the firing line.

Realising she was in love with Bellamy was like turning on a light. All it did was illuminate what was already there, lying in the shadows waiting for her to notice. It’s easy now to look back and see how that love was there all along, ever since the days of the dropship camp, ever since he grabbed her arm and saved her from falling to her death.

Clarke blows out a breath, leaning back against the table. Fate seems to get a laugh out of separating them, though. Now, here they are again, pulled apart from one another. Clarke should have been brave enough to tell him after they took down Josephine. The words were too big for such a small moment, though. Bellamy had barely revived her and it was almost straight back into action. The Primes had to be dealt with, her mother died, Sanctum had to be controlled and life just got in the way again. It’s never been any other way.

Her feelings are always there for Bellamy, residing in Clarke’s chest. Throughout all the challenges and heartache and destruction, her feelings remain a constant. _He_ remains a constant. She’s so fucking in love with him, it’s ridiculous.

Bellamy is like a magnet, demanding to be noticed by everyone by pulling them towards him. He could never have gone through his life invisible. The force inside him is too loud, too vocal and it screams out for acknowledgement.

Clarke was impressed when she found him after six years, leading with his head like she told him to. Still, there’s a trace of the old him in there when certain situations occur. She can see his heart fighting for control, the passion that she loves so much about him barely being contained. Clarke knows him, understands him and fuck, she loves him. Every single bit of him.

And now, standing here without him once again, she hates herself more than ever for not telling him. How many chances is she going to get?

One more, at least. She needs it because this time, she won’t waste it.

* * *

Raven rode back to Sanctum to get the others, knowing they’ll need some backup if they’re going to disappear into the anomaly. Clarke waited at Gabriel’s camp, rooting through more of his paperwork and trying to find some solid evidence for Raven’s wormhole theory.

She should be scared, considering they have absolutely no idea what they’re doing. But when did they ever know what to do? They’re experts at winging it. All she can hope for is that the anomaly will bring her to Bellamy.

It’s so dark outside that the lantern lights have gotten even brighter inside the tent. The constant static is weirdly becoming a comfort to Clarke, which is why a shiver runs down her spine when the whole place suddenly falls silent.

Clarke looks up, the papers ruffling under her elbows as she moves. It’s so quiet that even her breathing sounds too loud in the space. What is happening? She swallows, automatically reaching for her gun as she stands.

There’s a distant rumble outside, like thunder rolling in across waves on the sea. Almost as quick as Clarke turns her head, the lanterns are no longer the brightest thing here. There’s a green glow outside the tent and Clarke immediately knows what it is. The anomaly. _Bellamy_.

She leaps up, racing outside with no regard for safety and no space for thought. Clarke has seen two planets, a nuclear flame that swallowed one of them, several wars and radiation altered plants. But this is something else. Once she pushes open the tent flap, her mouth drops open.

The anomaly is like looking into a massive, green sun. It’s instinct to lift her hand to shield her eyes, the warm glow of its presence on her face. It’s all around the camp, stopping just a few feet from her. If she didn’t know any better, Clarke would think she was right in the eye of a tornado.

Her pulse is racing and her mind along with it, Fuck.

“Bellamy!” she screams into it but the vast volume of the anomaly doesn’t allow any other sound to be heard.

Then, she sees movement. A figure, tall and confident, stepping through the light. Clarke’s heart jumps and she can’t help the smile that comes onto her lips. It’s him. She knows it is.

That relief isn’t long being crushed when she realises this figure isn’t alone. Four others appear with him, fanning out behind him like soldiers. When they come into view, Clarke sees that they’re all wearing geometric shaped helmets and an armoured suit. More than that, the one she thought was Bellamy lifts a gun, aiming it right at her.

Fuck. Definitely not Bellamy.

She lifts her own weapon just as quick, laboured breaths coming with the panic of this situation. Who the hell are these people?

Clarke cocks her chin up and stands straighter, separating out her legs so she can appear more controlled and confident.

“Stop!” she commands, watching the anomaly fade out behind them - leaving these people here on this planet.

The one in front keeps walking forward, no intention of backing down. The others behind him all draw their weapons now, following his lead.

 _Brave_ , Clarke thinks. This man is too arrogant, too cocky. Does he know who he’s dealing with?

Clarke positions her finger on the trigger, ready to let off a warning shot because she will not hesitate to shoot these people if they come too close to her. The leader is still stepping towards her with his gun pointed and so, she puts pressure on the trigger. What stops her is when he lifts his free hand and pulls off his helmet in one quick movement.

A dark mess of curls fall out from the mask and down around his forehead. Freckles dust across his nose and his jawline is sharp, like it always is when he’s determined or angry. The way he holds himself is different, though - tenser, stiffer.

Just as she’s done assessing him, Clarke realises she hasn’t taken a breath in ages. She gasps air into her lungs as tears prick her eyes because she can barely believe what she’s seeing. The man she loves is aiming a gun at her, no recognition in his expression. He scans her, the gun in his hand held too tightly. Familiar brown eyes glare at her, except they’re not that familiar at all. They belong to a stranger because there’s no depth behind them, no softness.

Clarke can hardly form a comprehendible thought in her head so the only thing she manages to get out is his name, sounding shot and desperate in her throat.

“Bellamy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written as part of [Bellarke Bingo](https://www.bellarkebingo.tumblr.com) (an event that Essie and I are running). I'm crossing off the tropes _sanctum_ and _"i thought i lost you"_ from my bingo card with this one. You can find all of my bingo fics [here](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/625259821279690752/my-bellarke-bingo-fic-guide).
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. You can find me and the aesthetic for this fic on [tumblr](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/621068940685312000/i-am-lost-this-time-a-bellarke-canonverse-au). You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/eyessharp100).


	2. Ocean Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put a trigger warning in the end notes, just to cover all bases. I'm sorry in advance for the angst that's coming in future chapters but would it be me if I didn't have it as a central focus in any fic?
> 
> Thank you all for the support, as always. You are all the greatest. Enjoy.

Bardo is clinical.

It’s the only word Bellamy can use to describe it. He’s never seen a place so white, so clean. He’s lived on the soil of the dropship, the metal of the Ark and the Ring, the greenery in Eden, the sand of Polis, the stale air of Mount Weather and the lush fabrics in Sanctum Palace. He doesn’t know how to exist in Bardo where there's seemingly no texture to anything.

As he’s dragged through the hallways, he wonders if any germ or bacteria has ever landed on the pristine walls or floors. He feels out of place and so he should. He doesn’t belong here. With another sudden surge of energy, he tries to get away again. The two soldiers holding his arms aren’t ready when he pulls back, using all his muscles to free himself. It’s a struggle for power, one that he loses time and time again.

Their technology is like nothing Bellamy has ever seen and in a split second, he’s on his knees in front of them, grunting in pain. He’s not sure how they do it or what it is that he’s been injured with but fuck, his head feels like it could burst open.

“What do you want from me?” he yells, his voice echoing through the hallway.

Damn it, he doesn’t have time for this. He has to find Octavia. Her blood is still crusted under his fingernails, a bitter reminder that she’s injured - or worse, dead.

“Get up, Bellamy,” one of the soldiers says simply, his geometric mask hiding any features from view.

“How do you know my name?” Bellamy asks again because it’s not the first time they’ve addressed him like that.

“Everything will be made clear soon enough,” the other one says, lifting him up to stand before pushing him down the long corridor again.

Fuck. Bellamy tries to slow his breathing, take in anything in his surroundings that will help him but there’s nothing to notice. Nothing but white. His heart is telling him to thrash again, punch his way out if he can. That won’t work though, he has to use his head and follow Clarke’s advice.

_Clarke._

He closes his eyes, hating how his heart sinks at the thought of what she’ll think when she finds out he’s missing. He just got her back and then she lost her mother. He should be there with her right now, helping her to grieve and process everything that’s happened.

His thoughts can’t linger on her long because he’s led into a large, white room with a massive screen over to the left. There’s two people looking at some science shit on it but they turn around when he comes in. They’re both dressed in white, high collar uniforms and they have markings on their skin, similar to Hope’s when she came through the anomaly to stab Octavia.

The older man smiles but it doesn’t inject any kindness. “Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy glares at him as he’s taken to a lounge chair in the middle of the room. Whoever this guy is, he’s in charge. There’s no doubt about it. People in power always give off the same vibe: arrogant, smug, cocky, untouchable. Bellamy has seen enough of them through the years and they’ve all met the same end.

“Just set him up there,” the younger man instructs the guards.

He reminds Bellamy of Jackson, like he’s there to learn and believe in whatever cause they’re operating for. Except with Jackson, his cause is medicine. Bellamy has no idea what the people of Bardo believe in.

The soldiers try to sit Bellamy down but he pulls his shoulders back, snapping himself out of their grasp. He’s not stupid, he can see the restraints hanging from the chair.

“I want to know what the hell is going on,” he demands, staring straight at their leader. “Who are you?”

“My name is Anders,” he replies, curiosity etched into every one of his pores. It’s clear Bellamy intrigues him. “And we just want to talk.”

“Talking doesn’t require me to be held down.”

Anders steps forward, gesturing to the chair. “Mr. Blake. Either you lie down here of your own free will, or we’ll make you lie down.”

Bellamy quirks his brow and squeezes his fist closed, readying himself. “Guess you’ll need to make me, then.”

In a swift movement, Bellamy lifts his hand and connects with the guard beside him. He doubles over from the punch to his stomach and Bellamy uses that opportunity to lift his knee, knocking the guard backwards as he hits his helmet. Bellamy is prepared for the next guard just as quick, tackling him as he tries to help. A fight breaks out and for most of it, Bellamy actually thinks he’s winning until he feels a sharp shock inside his head like before.

This time, the pain drags on and is so intense that Bellamy has to close his eyes. He doesn’t get a chance to open them again.

* * *

The room is too bright when Bellamy wakes up. Large hexagon lights stare back at him on the ceiling and it hurts to move his eyes too much. It’s then that Bellamy realises how restrained he is. The lounge chair he didn’t want to lie down on now cushions his back and he has a strap around his torso. There’s a machine wrapped around his head, sitting at either side of his temples like a crown made of thorns. There’s a long, metal spike pulled down to his chest. His arms and legs are locked in somehow but he struggles anyway out of instinct.

“Hello, Bellamy,” the younger man’s voice comes into his ears, although he can’t pinpoint exactly where he is in the room. “I’m going to start by asking you a few base level questions.”

“Float yourself,” Bellamy grits out.

“Co-operate for Mr. Levitt,” Anders says from over by their fancy computer screen. “It’s in your best interest.”

“What the hell do you want?” Bellamy struggles against his restraints again. “What is this?”

“It’s memory capture,” Levitt tells him, walking around so Bellamy can see him. He definitely reminds him of Jackson - he looks too kind to be part of interrogation work.

“Which means we’re going to find out everything anyway, it’s just up to you how painful that will be,” Anders says calmly, like they’re not just talking about torturing someone here.

“The more you struggle, the more it will hurt,” Levitt says more gently. “So please, just be honest.”

“Honestly, Mr. Levitt,” Bellamy rumbles. “Float yourself.”

Levitt smirks in response, amused. Bellamy’s heart rate is elevated and his mind is racing. Memory capture? He has no idea what their technology is like but damn it, they will not get inside his head.

“Enough of this, Levitt,” Anders says impatiently. “Find out everything you can about the key. There is no room for error with this outsider.”

With _this_ outsider? Bellamy’s eyes still, wondering who the hell the other one is - or was.

“Yes, Sir,” Levitt agrees.

He walks over to the screen as he puts on a pair of clear glasses. Lifting his hand, he presses buttons seemingly in thin air but it clearly has a cause. The spike over Bellamy hums to life and the crown around his head lets off a slight vibration. And then he feels it, this machine tugging at his mind. “ _Block it_ ” is the first thing Bellamy thinks about and so, he fights against the pull. It would be easy to give in, to just let these people take what they want - but that’s not who Bellamy is.

Whatever key they’re looking for, Bellamy doesn’t have it. And he’ll be damned if he’s going to let them search for it.

“Bellamy, the pain will only get worse the more you struggle,” Levitt says, coming back over to him.

He’s not lying. It’s spreading across his mind like lava, burning every cell. Bellamy’s not sure what exactly this machine is searching for but he’s determined not to think of any memory, just focusing on the here and now. He concentrates hard on the spike in front of him, refusing to let his mind linger on anything or anyone else.

“Okay.” Levitt nods. “Let’s try it this way. You’re in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own,” he says and Bellamy locks eyes with him. “Whose is it?”

Bellamy knows what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to get him to automatically think of a person, the person that means the most to him. And damn it, it works. His mind betrays him like an instinct.

“There,” Anders says. “Good.”

It’s the most bizarre thing to ever happen to him. He looks over and on the digital screen in the room, Bellamy sees Clarke’s face. Her voice echoes around him and Bellamy realises that they’re seeing his memories. Levitt moves his hands, flexing them in different directions like he’s controlling the search somehow. On the screen, Bellamy sees images of Clarke’s face being zoomed in on and turned so they can have a full access view.

“ _This is not who we are_.” Clarke’s voice comes through in the room again.

“ _It is now_ ,” Bellamy replies in his memory.

Fuck! Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut. _No_.

“Keep going, Levitt. Harder,” Anders instructs. “The neuro-link is almost engaged.”

“Stop,” Bellamy gasps, his chest aching from trying to push them out of his head. He’s starting to sweat, feeling like he’s having a horrible nightmare and he can’t wake himself up.

“Is that Clarke?” Levitt asks.

Bellamy screams out, his head feeling like it could split in two. The exertion of the machine is too much. He clenches his fists and his nails dig into his palms. How do they know her name? How do they know about any of them?

“Who do you have?” Bellamy’s voice is hoarse when it comes out, almost animalistic. “You have one of our people.”

They have to. That’s the only way they’d know what Bellamy and Clarke look like. They’ve performed memory capture on their last _outsider_ but clearly, they didn’t have what they were looking for.

Neither of them answer his question.

The images on the screen flicker and Bellamy’s face breaks into a victorious grin. He’s pushing them out.

“Dial up the frequency,” Anders orders.

“Sir, I told you before, that could damage-”

“Levitt, do I need to get someone else in here? Dial it up.”

And so, the frequency goes up. Bellamy arches off the chair, every muscle in his body tensed. The pain tears through his head and like a switch is flipped, he hears a cacophony of different sentences bouncing around the room - all of them Clarke. When Bellamy looks at the screen, he sees her. Fuck _, they’re in._

“ _You should go first this time_.” She’s smiling at him, a backpack on her back as they stare out at Sanctum.

“ _No. We go together_.”

Another memory flashes up on the screen and Levitt presses it, playing out Bellamy's memories like one of those old movies he used to watch on the Ark.

“ _I wrote down leaving you in Polis_ ,” Clarke says, her voice cracking a little.

“ _Clarke, stop. Let’s not do this_.”

Her short blonde hair and beautiful face makes his chest ache. He closes his eyes, unable to look at his memories of her - crystal clear right in front of him. The next one syncs in, despite Bellamy’s best efforts to block these people out.

“ _Bell, she’s gone_ ,” Octavia is saying in Gabriel’s tent.

“ _No, she’s not_ ,” he replies adamantly in his memory. Bellamy purses his lips, remembering the feeling of having almost lost Clarke in that moment.

“That's Octavia.” Levitt points to the screen now, a slight smile on his face.

“How do you know Octavia?” Bellamy lashes out, arching off the chair again. “ _Get out_! Get out of my head.”

Different images of Clarke pop up on the screen the more time goes on. She is the memory point that Anders wants focused on. Her voice sounding out around the room breaks Bellamy’s heart, piece by piece. It’s like she’s actually here. These people seem too interested in her and fuck, Bellamy is giving them everything.

“ _If anything happens to me-_ ”

“ _Nothing is happening to you_.”

Bellamy blinks, sweat dripping down his temples. His heart is racing as he grows more frustrated with himself - he hates that he can’t shut them out. Not to mention how agonising it is to hear the waves in Clarke’s voice or see her right in front of him, his mind projecting her beauty perfectly.

“ _Promise me._ ”

“ _No. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you do this alone_.”

Anders smiles, like he’s after discovering a missing piece of a puzzle he’s been working on. He looks to Levitt and nods, mumbling something that Bellamy can’t hear because he’s so focused on blocking them out. The pain in his head grows stronger and to be honest, Bellamy’s not sure how long he can remain awake for. He’s getting tired.

“ _How about I give you 283? That’s how many of your people are going to die if you and I can’t make a deal_.”

“ _283 lives for one. She must be pretty important to you_.”

“ _She is_.”

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut, his head spinning in circles. How can he stop this? There has to be a way. Anders voice fades into Bellamy's concentration then, saying something to Levitt about memory altering. Bellamy's eyes snap open, his heart stuttering. _What?_

“Sir, that’s never been tested before. We don’t know if it would cause permanent damage,” Levitt says lowly.

Bellamy’s chest is heaving but he sits up as straight as he can, craning his neck to hear.

“Do it, Levitt. Bellamy is how we break her and I want it done.”

“What are you doing?”

Levitt looks to Bellamy and back to Anders, a silent plea on his expression. Whatever this is, it’s bad.

“Erase them,” Anders instructs.

“Erase what?” Bellamy asks evenly, dread filling his whole body.

Understanding seems to fall over him in a split second because fuck, he knows exactly what they’re doing. Anders wants Clarke. That much is obvious. And they’re going to use Bellamy to get her.

“You are _not_ wiping my memories.”

“Mr. Blake,” Anders starts. “It must be done in order to-”

“No!” Bellamy booms. “You can’t.”

If they take his memories, they can fill his head with whatever propaganda they want. They can paint a target on Clarke’s back, use Bellamy to bring her here or worse, to take whatever they want from her by force. And damn it, knowing Clarke, she’ll do it. She’ll give everything up for him, one way or another. He can’t let this happen.

“Bellamy-”

“Fuck you!” Bellamy lashes against the chair, growls and grunts coming from his body as he tries to free himself. “They’re my memories. They’re _mine_. You won’t take her from me.”

His memories of Clarke are all he has. She’s not his but damn it, they are. They’re something he doesn’t have to share with anybody, something he can fall asleep with, hold onto when he needs courage. Fuck, he needs that now.

“Do it, Levitt,” Anders orders, clearly growing tired of Bellamy’s dramatics.

“Levitt,” Bellamy says quickly. “Don’t. I know you don’t want to do this.”

Levitt looks pained, caught in the middle of something he thinks he doesn’t have a choice with. Bellamy has been there and if he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always a choice.

“I need to protect her. Don’t do this, don’t make me hurt her.” Bellamy stares at him, desperate to convince him not to follow Anders orders. “Look at her,” Bellamy nods to the screen and Levitt shifts his focus, looking at an image of Clarke from Bellamy’s memory.

It was the night on the beach when they were looking for Luna. Bellamy had admitted that he was so angry at Clarke for leaving but he didn’t want to be anymore. And Clarke, who always forgave him without a second thought, didn’t hesitate in doing just that. Her hair was longer then and she had a nasty gash under her right eye but damn it, she was still so fucking beautiful.

“You can see what she means to me,” Bellamy presses Levitt. “Don’t do this.”

Levitt stares at the screen, unblinking, and Bellamy can see the thoughts swimming behind his eyes, the order that he clearly doesn’t want to follow weighing heavy on him. Unfortunately, he’s not the one that makes the decisions.

“Enough of this,” Anders grumbles, pushing Levitt out of the way.

“No!” Levitt shouts. “Wait!”

Anders has already lifted his hand and he pulls down on a lever on the screen. Bellamy bucks up against his restraints, determined to fight this until the bitter end. The pressure against his head gets heavier but Bellamy clenches his teeth, honing in on a single memory to keep him from being pulled under.

He focuses on Clarke’s eyes in his mind, as blue as an ocean and just as untameable as one. They could grow stormy or calm in mere seconds and the emotional waves that they carry drown him with every break. Bellamy draws strength from them now, determined to never forget those eyes. He couldn’t, no matter what Anders did to him. Bellamy deposits the love he has for her into that detail and promises himself that no matter what happens, she’ll bring him back with a key she doesn’t even know she possesses.

Those eyes are the last thing he thinks about when his mind falls dark. Clarke will come through for him, she always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: just putting this here just in case but Bellamy is being held down against his will in this chapter.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. You can find me and the aesthetic for this fic on [tumblr](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/621068940685312000/i-am-lost-this-time-a-bellarke-canonverse-au). You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/eyessharp100).


	3. Broken Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this chapter. I just want to reassure you all that I will still be writing Bellarke until I no longer feel inspired, regardless of how bad season 7 goes or real life controversies. I enjoy the ship and for those of you who still do as well, thanks for reading and staying with me.

Clarke can barely believe what she’s seeing. What the hell is Bellamy doing with these people? His eyes are assessing her, cold and distant and nothing at all like him. His gun is cocked, focused directly on her in a way that makes her throat dry. She has lowered hers, though. She won’t point a gun at him, not again - not after the bunker. It almost killed her.

“Bellamy,” she says again, taking a careful step towards him. His brow furrows further, like he’s wondering how the hell she knows him. “It’s me.”

“Stop walking,” he orders, steadying his gun. “Drop your weapon, hands on your head.”

The ground roots Clarke to her spot, her heart dropping into her stomach. Is he serious? She can’t see any recognition in his face, nothing but a cold stare that makes her want to cry. This is _Bellamy_ : the man that she bled with, fought with, grieved with. He knows her better than anyone, knows the darkness that she lives with on a daily basis. He was always the one to set her free from her burdens and when he held her, the world stopped turning. His arms fit around her as naturally as a bird learning to fly. There’s no moment in time where he’d ever want to hurt her, so what the fuck is happening?

“Bellamy,” she breathes in disbelief, tears forming behind her eyes. She hates how her heart is racing because fuck, she’s starting to panic. It’s like he doesn’t recognise her at all. “It’s Clarke.”

“I know who you are,” Bellamy says evenly, his eyes barren.

Clarke recoils like he’s hit her. “What the hell are you doing, then?”

“Put your hands on your head, Wanheda,” he instructs sharply, his voice elevating like he’s growing impatient.

“Are you kidding me?” she chokes out, barely able to control herself. 

Wanheda? Since when does he address her like that? Her breathing is uneven and she feels like her lungs are going to come out through her mouth. There’s a tsunami of emotion building inside her and when it crashes, Clarke worries what way she’ll react. She glances at the other soldiers around him, all of their faces covered with masks.

“What have you done to him?” she asks venomously.

They ignore her, instead focusing their attention on Bellamy. “What are your orders, Blake?”

What are his orders? Like he’s somehow in charge of this whole thing? Before he can give any instruction, all of their eyes shift in the same direction. Clarke startles when they all readjust their guns in a sudden movement, pointing them to the left of her. Looking over her shoulder, she spots Raven and Murphy who have clearly walked right into this completely unaware. Their hands go up automatically in surrender.

Clarke thinks her heart is going to bang right out of her chest. _Great_ , now they’re all in danger.

“What’s this?” Murphy asks sarcastically. “A party without us?”

“Hey.” Raven’s eyes are darting between Clarke and Bellamy. “What’s going on?”

“Take them, too,” Bellamy instructs and two of his soldiers step forward.

“What?” Raven gapes.

“Bellamy,” Murphy chimes in at the same time.

A distant thought strikes Clarke that maybe these people bodysnatched Bellamy like Russell did to her, that maybe somebody else is running his body right now. The idea isn’t in her head long enough to process properly because Clarke loses it.

She drops her gun and lunges for Bellamy, catching him completely unaware because his eyes widen as she approaches. She grabs his arms, wanting to shake him out of this trance.

_No, he can’t be gone._

She’s so desperate that she didn’t even notice the danger of diving at him when he was still aiming his gun at her. It’s now lingering in mid-air as Clarke stares up at his blank expression, grasping at any part of him that she can like a lifeline.

The soldiers move in immediately, forgetting about Raven and Murphy, and pull Clarke away from him. She’s like a wild animal, adrenaline coursing through her. They are no match for her struggle. She keeps trying to keep her body close to him, like she’d somehow die if she leaves him right now. Bellamy seems to have frozen, looking as if he has absolutely no idea how to react to this.

On her last effort of hauling herself back to him, she rests her forehead against his chin as she folds her arms around him, her voice trembling. “Bellamy. Please.”

Bellamy must signal to his soldiers to stop because they don’t come back for her this time. She feels his hand against her arm, gentle and delicate. Hot tears spill down her cheeks and she knows even now, Bellamy Blake will always be her weakness no matter how much time passes.

Raven and Murphy are behind her, probably watching the whole thing but damn it, Clarke doesn’t care. She closes her eyes, basking in the way his smell envelopes her. The height difference between them is apparent as she leans against him and the world stands still, just the two of them - like it should be.

Her heart still hasn’t slowed down though, because she _knows_. She has the most dreadful feeling in her bones, filling her up from head to toe. Something still isn’t right and Clarke is too close to him now to back away from the danger. When she looks up at him, his eyes are glazed over and his jaw is tight.

Suddenly, Murphy comes up behind Clarke and snatches her, pulling her back against his chest. She gasps as a knife appears under her neck and she has to hold onto his arm for support, a whole different sense of danger falling over her. It’s almost like they’ve time travelled, back to the dropship camp when they were trying to protect Charlotte. Back then, Bellamy had stepped towards Murphy, his eyes sharp on Clarke like he’d do anything to protect her. Now, he simply looks at the altercation like it confuses him.

“Murphy!” Raven shouts. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“You really think our Rebel King is going to let someone hurt the Princess?” Murphy growls. “This will wake him up.”

Bellamy squares his shoulders, his gun held down by his side now. The soldiers have formed a circle around them all, obviously waiting for further orders. Clarke stares at him desperately, wishing he would just _look_ at her. The way he used to, not in this detached manner like he doesn’t even remember anything they’ve been through together. He would have set the world on fire to rescue her before, now, there’s nothing but boredom and impatience behind those eyes.

“Come on, Bellamy,” Murphy urges him, pressing his knife into Clarke’s throat. She swallows thickly, hating how she’s praying for a reaction from him over this.

Then, pain sets Clarke’s nerve endings on fire. It’s not from Murphy’s knife, though. There’s an enormous pressure in her head, like her brain is swelling and trying to burst out of her skull. She drops to her knees, holding the sides of her head like it might fall off. There’s a shrill ringing sound in her ears and it’s only after a few seconds that she recognises it. Raven is screaming.

Clarke opens her eyes, seeing Murphy on his knees behind her and his knife abandoned on the ground. Raven is behind him in the same position, gripping her head. The pain is so intense, it’s like it has its own noise. Clarke manages to look up at Bellamy through squinted eyes, who seems to be talking to his soldiers even though Clarke can’t hear a thing. _He’s doing this._

A green light starts to appear behind them as the soldiers lift them all to their feet. The last thing Clarke sees before she passes out is Bellamy turning towards the anomaly, guiding the way like the leader he is. Whoever this person is, he’s definitely not the love of her life.

* * *

When Clarke wakes up, even just from first glance, she knows she’s in a prison cell.

It’s cold and dark and there’s bars all around her. She looks to her left, seeing Raven and Murphy in two separate cells beside her. They’re both awake, sitting against the bars. Raven is making patterns in the dirt on the ground with her finger and Murphy is staring at the ceiling. By the looks of it, they’ve both already exasperated all avenues of trying to find a way out of here.

Clarke sits up, her head feeling like it weighs twice what it normally does. She groans, putting her hand to her temple.

“You’re awake,” Raven notes, shuffling over closer to her.

Clarke blows out a breath, the memories of what happened crashing down round her. The only clear thought she can form is about Bellamy. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Take it easy,” Raven says, putting her hand through the bars to hold Clarke’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

The only pain Clarke feels is the one in her chest. Her voice is a mere mumble, a breath away from a whisper. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“We’ll get to him, Clarke.”

“Will we?” Murphy's laugh rings out too false. “Who even is _he_? He arrested us, brought us to this planet and locked us up.”

Clarke lifts her head, staring at him. “We’re on a different planet?”

“Turns out our theory was right,” Raven mutters. “This is Bardo.”

Their voices are flowing into Clarke’s ears thick and dreamlike, her thoughts overwhelming her. What have they done to Bellamy? He doesn’t have a residual chip like she did - if they’ve bodysnatched him, she’ll never get him back. This hits hard and she doesn’t know if it’s the amount that’s happened or if she’s still broken after her mom but the panic comes over her like a tidal wave. Clarke pushes herself to her feet, her hand cupping her mouth.

_Oh God. She’s lost him._

“Clarke.” Raven stands up, folding her fingers around the bars that separates them. “Clarke, take a breath.”

She can’t. She can’t fucking breathe at all. Her gut twists and her stomach is so nauseous that she thinks she’ll actually throw up. Bellamy is gone. She’s hyperventilating, gulping at the air like it’s sand and she can't find the oxygen. Her head is spinning and whatever is left of her heart is pounding against her ribcage.

“ _Clarke_. Look at me,” Raven demands.

Clarke turns around, her hands holding her sides tightly. Raven and Murphy both standing now, staring at her in concern.

“Whatever happens, Clarke Griffin doesn’t break,” Raven tells her, clearly trying to pull her out of this and help her cope.

“You haven’t seen me lose him yet,” Clarke manages between gasps. Because that’s the thing, she can’t cope without Bellamy.

Raven and Murphy’s eyes soften, both of them glancing at one another. Clarke doesn’t even get a chance to ride out her panic attack because the outside door opens and in walks the person who is supposed to be Bellamy, flanked by two soldiers. Clarke’s heart breaks all over again. She bends over, supporting her weight by holding onto her knees. Fuck, it’s too much to look at him.

The way his curls fall down over his brows, the way his arms fill out the white collared uniform he’s wearing, the way every part of him is so quintessentially Bellamy - but _he_ isn’t. The man who held her against him so many times, the man who shouldered the burdens with her and told her she didn’t have to do this alone - _he’s gone._

This imposter takes one look at Clarke in the midst of her breakdown and ignores it. It feels foreign that he’s not running to comfort her. Instead, he nods at his men and gestures to Raven and Murphy.

“I want these two moved to Level 4.”

The first thing that registers with Clarke is that he’s calling all the shots, giving orders like he runs the whole show. He’s been here three days, how is that possible? The second thing that registers with her is that he’s separating them.

“ _No_ ,” Raven barks as one soldier approaches her cell while the other approaches Murphy’s. “Stop, why are you doing this?”

“Bellamy!” Murphy yells, squaring his shoulders as his appointed soldier comes in to take him. He starts pushing him off, fighting against him. “It’s us! What are you doing?”

Clarke can only lean against her knees, watching it all happen before her. The air is starting to thin and everything goes quiet. Murphy and Raven are both kicking and lashing, being pulled away almost in slow motion. All Clarke can hear is her breathing, long and harsh in the space around her. It fills her ears, each inhale and exhale. There’s a low thudding in between breaths, which Clarke comes to realise is her heartbeat. She can almost hear how broken it sounds.

Raven and Murphy are calling to her as they’re dragged away but their lips are moving too fast and Clarke’s mind is turning over too slow. The door banging closed behind them sets the volume off again. When Bellamy speaks, Clarke can understand every word and hear every inflection of his tone.

“Get yourself together. We’re going to M-Cap.”

Clarke swallows dryly, desperate to quench the stinging sensation in her chest. “Who even are you?”

He cocks his chin up and settles his hands on the belt of his uniform. How can some of his physical movements be so Bellamy but his mind be so different?

“Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke huffs out a pathetic laugh, straightening herself to stand up. When she speaks, it’s between a whisper and an accusation. “No, you’re not.”

“What would you know about me?”

He smirks in a way that’s so arrogant that Clarke actually believes they’re somehow back in their dropship camp, when he was too cocky for his own good and desperate to prove himself as a leader.

“Everything,” she breathes. “I know Bellamy would never do this to us, he’d never work for these people and he’d never betray us.”

Bellamy snorts in derision. “I was raised on Bardo. There’s-”

“No.” Clarke cuts him off. “You were raised on the Ark, with your mom and _Octavia_.”

She waits for the flicker that comes into his eyes at the mention of his sister, the girl that he sacrificed everything for. It doesn’t come.

Instead, he just unlocks her cell and steps inside. “M-Cap. Let’s go.”

* * *

Hours bleed into days and pretty soon, Clarke isn’t sure how long she’s been strapped to the chair. Levitt is having little success capturing her memories, a goal Clarke caught onto relatively quickly once the machine started pulling at her mind. This is what they want and she’ll be damned if she’s going to give it to them.

Years spent trying to survive has taught her a few things and one of those is to never give up her leverage. If they want something in her mind, they can bargain with her for it. She’d ask to see Raven and Murphy, to restore Bellamy to who he was, to let them all go. So far, nothing like that has been offered. It’s clear that they think they can get it without a trade.

Their leader, Anders, has been in and out, smiling at Clarke like he already knows everything about her. Maybe he does because it’s now obvious that this is what they did to Bellamy. When they captured his memories, though, it seems they didn’t give them back.

Clarke looks at him now, standing guard across the room. He transports Clarke to and from her cell and stays for the extraction sessions, but he doesn't utter a word to her other than that. He’s staring at the screen blankly, patiently waiting for results from Levitt.

“Come on, Clarke,” Levitt says. “You’re exhausted. The more you fight, the worse it is.”

He’s right. Sweat is pooling at the back of her neck and every single nerve she has is on fire, like they’re all exposed to the open air. Every time he gets close to extracting a memory, Clarke focuses on Bellamy’s face across the room and it tethers her to the present moment. They haven’t figured out that he’s her lifeline yet.

“Float yourself,” Clarke says through gritted teeth, desperate to keep him out.

Levitt smirks. “You’re all fond of that phrase.”

 _All_? Clarke snaps her eyes to him, wondering what he meant by that. They’ve only done this with Bellamy, right? Levitt must understand what she’s thinking and shakes his head, gesturing with his eyes to the right hand corner of the room where Bellamy stands guard. The message is clear: be careful with what is said.

Levitt seems different, like he doesn’t really want to be doing this. Almost like he wants to help them. Clarke survives using her head but if she didn’t, her gut would be telling her to trust this man. How trustworthy can he be if he did this to Bellamy?

“Let’s try this again.” Levitt clears his throat, re-routing back to his task. “You’re in an endless desert with a vast purple sky.”

Clarke shuts her eyes tightly, knowing that this question always forms a crack. They almost get in with this - every time.

“A hand reaches out for your own, whose is it?”

And just like that, her mind pulls up Bellamy’s face. He’s above her, his arm extended into the pit that she nearly fell into. Fear is spiralling through his eyes and he holds onto her for dear life. It was the first time he saved her life - she’s not sure he’d do it now.

“Almost,” Levitt breathes.

Clarke opens her eyes and even though the pain is burning a hole in her brain cells, she forces herself to look at Bellamy across the room. She focuses on the curve of his chin and how his eyes dart across the screen in the room. He stands with his legs separated, his shoulders pulled into a tight line from the way his hands are held behind his back. A soldier's stance. It’s ironic that the person who is keeping her in the present is one of the people she’s trying to keep out of her head.

“Damn it,” Levitt mutters, swiping at the air with his fingers like he’s trying to hold onto the fuzzy memory in front of him, surely fading by the second. He sighs, exasperated. “ _Clarke._ ”

“I told you,” she gasps out from exertion. “Float yourself.”

Levitt purses his lips, taking off his clear glasses that are obviously the window into her mind. He steps closer to her chair, glancing over his shoulder like he’s checking on Bellamy’s distance.

“I have a job to do,” Levitt says lowly. “You need to let me or else they’re going to bring in someone else, someone that won’t go as easy as me.”

“They can bring in who they like, the results will be the same,” she mumbles.

He leans his palms against her chair, assessing her like he’s backed into a corner. Clarke knows she’s finally pushed him to barter but what he offers isn’t what she expected.

“Just give me something,” he whispers. “Anything to show I’m making progress. It doesn’t have to be important. I know you don’t trust me but I swear, I’m trying to help.”

“Yeah, sure looks that way,” Clarke snaps. She’s not giving him anything. Once she lets him in at all, he’ll likely have access to everything. She doesn’t know what they’re even looking for so showing them any memory could be detrimental.

“Okay, look.” Levitt leans in a little closer, checking Bellamy’s position once more before he dares to talk again. “We need to work together here. After Octavia, I can’t fail again and she needs your help.”

 _Octavia?_ Clarke pales. They have her too?

Levitt’s face softens. “Octavia, she, I…”

Clarke’s eyes pinch up in confusion, waiting for him to go on.

“She’s just…” He smiles fondly. “Octavia is amazing. And losing Bellamy like this almost…”

All of a sudden, everything clicks into place. _He cares about her_. Whatever happened, Octavia has obviously seen her brother like this and Levitt is trying to undo it. For a moment, Clarke wonders if it’s a trick but she doubts it. If it is, Levitt is extremely good at lying. She can see in his eyes how much Octavia means to him.

“What do I have to do?” Clarke whispers, figuring that if it can help get Bellamy back, it’s worth the risk.

Levitt smiles like he’s relieved and leans forward, speaking in hushed tones as he gestures back at Bellamy with his eyes. “Show him something, a memory of the two of you.”

 _All my memories are of him_.

“Which one?”

“Any one. Let him see how much he means to you,” Levitt whispers. “Because I’ve seen how much you mean to him.”

Clarke swallows back a cry, tears pricking at her eyes. There’s a pressure in her chest now and she shifts against her restraints, the white room suddenly all too bright. Glancing over, she sees Bellamy stepping closer to them, an irritated look on his face. She’d give anything for him to hug her, show her that she still means something to him like Levitt said.

“Is there a problem, Levitt?”

Levitt stands up straight, pulling at his coat. “No problem. I was just adjusting the machine.”

“Get on with it,” Bellamy says gruffly. “We need results. Enough time has been wasted on her.”

Clarke’s heart sinks. He doesn’t even think she’s worth all of this. In fact, her worth to him is abundantly clear.

“You know how much Anders values her,” Levitt argues.

“Whatever.” Bellamy shakes his head, returning to his position by the door.

Levitt turns back to Clarke, putting his clear glasses back on and pressing some invisible buttons in the air that only he can see. He glances at her, nodding in encouragement. The machine hums back to life and there’s a familiar pulling sensation in Clarke’s head. This time, instead of resisting, she leans into it.

Her recollection of Bellamy’s voice echoes around the room and when Clarke looks over at the screen, she sees both of them there - a projection of the memory she’s chosen, playing like a movie. She glances at Bellamy standing by the door, his attention fully focused on it. There’s a crease between his brows and his lips are parted, clearly in shock. According to him, he never had a life outside of Bardo. Clarke is about to show him different.

Levitt moves his fingers, making the memory clearer. He smiles. “ _Yes_. Good Clarke.”

She looks back to the screen, welling up at the sight of them back on Earth. Back when Bellamy knew who she was. They’re sitting at the fire in the middle of the desert, Bellamy looking at her like she concocted the flames with her fingers.

“ _So is surviving alone_ ,” he says, his rough voice vibrating off her.

He has a beard in the memory and his hair is a little longer than now. He’s leaning over his knees, the orange light of the fire reflecting on his face. Clarke remembers feeling warm but not from the flames. Her cheeks flushed when he looked at her.

His voice rings out again. “ _How’d you do it?_ ”

Clarke watches herself think about it for a second. “ _Well, I wasn’t alone_.”

At the time, Clarke dismissed him and told him she had Madi. Then she retreated to bed, the truth feeling too big to tell him back then. But now, she shows him. Several memories cut in of her in Eden, radioing him every single day for six years.

“ _Bellamy, if you can hear me, if you’re alive. I don’t know why I still do this every day. Maybe it’s my way of staying sane_.” She forgot how beautiful it was to look at that view from the hill overlooking Eden.

The radio cracks like her voice. “ _This would be so much easier if I knew you were alive_.”

Bellamy steps towards the screen, his eyes scanning every inch of it. Clarke watches his reaction closely as Levitt enhances her memories.

On the screen now, she's eating berries as she radios him. “ _I found water today. You’d love this place_.”

“ _I don’t know how long I can keep doing this without you, Bellamy_.” Her voice is broken and wavy in the next memory, an image of her shrouded by the darkness of her cabin, sobbing into the radio.

The one after that hits her hard because fuck, Bellamy is holding her arms and looking like he might actually kiss her. They’ve reunited after he bargained for her life with Diyoza. “ _And now you’re home_.”

“How is she doing this?” Bellamy demands to know, swinging around to Levitt.

“She’s not doing anything,” Levitt explains. “These are her memories.”

“No, how can she fabricate this so clearly?” He stomps over to her chair, gesturing wildly at the screen like he’s losing it. “Anders said she’d lie about me but fuck, look at this shit.”

Clarke blinks, now knowing why he was allowed to sit in for this. Anders has convinced him that she’s a liar, amongst other things - and now, in Bellamy’s eyes, she’s proven it. Clever move on Anders part.

“It’s real, Bell,” she cracks out, exhausted and emotional from the memories and the fight she put up.

God, she wants him to believe her. All he has to do is look at the screen to see what they had, to see what she thinks of him. Bellamy is having none of it, though. He rakes his fingers through his hair and shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “It isn’t.”

“It is,” she whimpers. “That’s us when we were on Earth. You-”

“ _NO_!”

Clarke’s restraints jingle when she jumps. Bellamy snaps himself around and storms out of the room, leaving her there. Her head flops back against her chair and she blows out a breath, debating what feeling is worse: heartbreak or defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. You can find me and the aesthetic for this fic on [tumblr](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/621068940685312000/i-am-lost-this-time-a-bellarke-canonverse-au). You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/eyessharp100).


End file.
